


Eloquence

by FiendMate



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (But Only for a Few Lines), Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Large Insertion, Mind the Underage Indication, Pseudo-Incest, Squirting, Statutory Rape, Stomach Bulge, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiendMate/pseuds/FiendMate
Summary: Geralt wanted more of his Child Surprise, wanted to bury himself between her thighs again, listen to her panting and her rabbit-fast heartbeat; but more than that, he wanted her toaskfor it, first.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Kudos: 242





	Eloquence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about Geralt fucking Netflix show-age Ciri. Understandably not something a lot of people are going to be cool with, and that's why it's tagged accordingly.
> 
> This was a prompt from my Kink Blog that's a vague continuation of a previous one, with this part coming out polished enough that I figured I may as well edit and post.

Cirilla waited up in bed for him every night, these days.

She was wearing one of Geralt's shirts, big enough to fall off one of her slender shoulders and expose half her chest. That single bared peach-pink nipple was budded, hard as a coin, sitting high and perky on the barely-there swell of her breast. Geralt wanted to suck it into his mouth until she cried with it, tried to pull him away, slick and oversensitive.

He'd been seeking out fair, skinny whores recently, eager for work in a market where most prefer women with more generous endowment, and toying with them until they dripped. He never wanted to hurt Ciri, take a harsh hand to her, but he loved getting her stand-ins wet and throbbing, only to then slap meanly at their cunts; not hard or brutal, but enough to make them jump, make them _squeal_ , swollen little clits hypersensitive to any sort of impact.

It had to be enough, he thought. He would _make it_ enough, because while his little girl had panted and clenched and _come_ around him that night, she didn't have the benefit other experience; didn't know if she wanted _him_ or just _wanted_. He would hold himself back unless she asked him for more.

That said, Geralt certainly wasn't above tempting her.

He climbed into bed behind Ciri and wrapped her in his arms, willing his very interested cock down at the feeling of her, absolutely dwarfed by him, soft skin and delicate bones. She made that huffing little hum she did when she was pleased and melted into him, breaking out into goosebumps at the feeling of his big, calloused hand running slowly up and down her side. Geralt kissed wetly at the nape of her neck as he slipped that same hand under her shirt, rumbling low in his chest when he didn't feel any fabric as he smoothed his palm across her hip; sweet Cirilla had taken off her panties and climbed into bed wearing Daddy's clothes.

Smiling his approval against her nape, he kept stroking her side. Now skin to skin, the tips of his middle and index finger brushed her nipple with ever pass over her rib cage. She squirmed, just a little, rubbing her tense thighs together, the fidgeting growing worse as five and then ten minutes passed without escalation.

Her voice, when she spoke, was so soft as to be barely audible. "Daddy?"

Fuck. She'd taken to calling him that even out of the bedroom, sometimes, in bright laughter as he swung her around and in fear when she tucked herself away behind him in the face of ghouls or bandits. Despite being staunchly resistant to having a child surprise for so many years, he didn't think he'd ever loved hearing anything more. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"You can... keep going."

He cupped his hand around her breast properly— both of them, practically, her chest being so very small— and played dumb, loving the feeling of them against his palm, soft and perfect.

"Keep going where?"

Ciri moaned a high, cut-off little squeak, arching her back to push her tits harder against his grip. Geralt could smell the gush of slick between her legs when he pinched and _pulled_ at one, her heartbeat rocketing.

" _T-touch me_ , I mean."

"I am touching you."

It took every ounce of his willpower not to fondle her pussy. She was ripe for it, blood pounding in her parts hot enough for Geralt to feel, smelling salty with sweat and _fertile_ in a way that completely bypassed Geralt's intellectual awareness of his own sterility. It made every cell in his body want to fuck her so full there was no chance she wouldn't catch.

He nearly couldn't hear what she said next, even with his witcher hearing, Ciri having turned to mash her face into her pillow as her hips bucked helplessly. "Between my legs, Daddy."

He took his hand out of her— his— shirt to grab her chin, leaning up and angling her face until he could lick into her mouth, tongue too big for her to properly kiss back, to do anything but let him mouth proprietorially at her. With the indulgent smile of a proud parent, he reached down to rub two fingers into her puffy slit, dragging them lovingly over her hole and bumping her twitching clit. Gods above, she was _soaking_ wet, every pass of his fingers squelching in the quiet room. 

"Excited, Princess? What else do you want Daddy to do between your legs?"

He was going to fuck her no matter what she said, too pent up not to take advantage of his sweet girl this loose and easy, so primed to be mounted that he could probably get more than the first four inches of his cock in, might be able to see it in her belly this time. Still, he'd love to hear her ask for it.

Ciri was panting like a workhorse, whole body thrashing against the arm Geralt had around her torso as he curled a finger into her tiny, blood-hot cunt, crooking it rhythmically until a fresh wave of slick dripped down his wrist. "Oh, oh oh _oh_ — like, _ah_ , like last time Daddy! In my cunny!"

What a good girl. He rolled them so she was on her back, giggling and fluttering as he pulled the shirt up and off her, kissing and licking and blowing raspberries as he went. By the time they were both undressed every part of her body was flush with a mix of laughter, arousal and embarrassment. With one last kiss he climbed back on top of her, sliding his cock against her folds before pushing the swollen, drooling head to her opening.

She squealed when it popped in, a note of pain souring her scent, but a harsh thumb rubbing at her clit quickly overrode the discomfort. Geralt crooned softly about what a good, brave girl she was, responsible and grown-up and gorgeous, her pretty soft parts better than anyone he'd ever been with.

His cock stretched her open almost the full width of her thigh gap, lips wide and straining around him; even her clit was pulled tight and slightly flat. He started as slowly as he possibly could, despite his balls throbbing and his teeth aching: pushing the first inch of his shaft in and out, over and over, forcing her vaginal canal wide around him as he slowly fucked deeper. After a few minutes they were up to three inches, and then four, the sounds of their sex sloppy and obscene in the shoddy little tavern room. Ciri had gone limp and nearly cross-eyed, forcing Geralt to move her by the hips— the sight of her tiny tits bouncing was a revelation, almost good enough to make Geralt shoot then and there. He angled his hips to drive hard into her front wall when he realized he wasn't going to last, hunching over to kiss her slack, moaning mouth, cradling one gentle hand behind her neck like a lover.

He came with a roar when she clenched and, sweet Melitile, squirted, drenching his cock and balls and the insides of her own thighs. He could just barely see himself twitch and bounce inside of her, and the reality of it, of his seed planted deep in his child surprise, nearly gave him a second wind.

Instead he pulled out, peppering Ciri's face with kisses, murmuring his affection. A mess spilled from her cunt the instant Geralt's crown popped out, dripping shiny and viscous down her slit to her asshole and making a dark, wet stain on the sheets.

He shuffled them until they were spooning again, on top of the blanket in an attempt to stay dry, and nuzzled his jaw against her shoulder and cheek, as though there were any part of her that didn't smell of him.

"Is that what you wanted?"

Lassitude had somewhat relaxed her inhibitions, it seemed, but she still whispered her reply. " _Yes_."

"What do we say, then?"

 _"Thank you Daddy_."

**Author's Note:**

> I generally write more Geralt/Jaskier and wolf school pairings than I do Geralt/Ciri, but something about this one was, uh. Very inspiring.
> 
> The original prompt was this: _On the topic of Geralt/Ciri: Geralt making Ciri ask for what she wants. Part of him is worried that she doesn't actually want this and he just wants to hear her say it, so he just cuddles with her at night until she gets so pent up, softly asking if he can touch her. He just wraps his arms around her tighter and says "I am" and she huffs, squirming against him and he keeps asking her to be more specific, tell him where, and she's so unused to having to voice these things, getting so flustered_
> 
> I have about six or so to get through right now, but if you have nasty/hard kink ideas you want to send somewhere, prompt me at fiendmate.tumblr.com!


End file.
